


if i had known

by maureenbrown



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Based on a Tumblr Post, Bubbline, F/F, Femslash, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-18 01:37:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7294264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maureenbrown/pseuds/maureenbrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a tinkling of a bell signaling a customer has entered the flower shop, and Bonnibel resists the urge to groan in frustration. Honestly, she can’t get two minutes of peace without someone hollering over to her about what the flowers mean, or lovers rushing in, all in hopes of wooing some poor soul. Working here has made her somewhat grouchy and bitter yes, and it’s bad that she hopes misfortune on this many people, but she knows if someone had to package carnations and daisies and roses or other stereotypical flowers into a grueling little bundle of joy and allergies, they’d understand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if i had known

**Author's Note:**

> im trash for these two // my tumblr is @crankwinston

There’s a tinkling of a bell signaling a customer has entered the flower shop, and Bonnibel resists the urge to groan in frustration. Honestly, she can’t get two minutes of peace without someone hollering over to her about what the flowers mean, or lovers rushing in, all in hopes of wooing some poor soul. Working here has made her somewhat grouchy and bitter yes, and it’s bad that she hopes misfortune on this many people, but she knows if someone had to package carnations and daisies and roses or other stereotypical flowers into a grueling little bundle of joy and allergies, they’d understand.

A girl with long black hair practically floats into the room, her walk not jaunty, but level, and her lips are curved downwards in a pout. Her skin tone is nearly gray, and her eyes are narrowed in a glare. As grumpy as Bonnibel feels, she’s really not ready to be ridiculed right now. 

The stranger holds something in her hand, and she immediately slams it down on the counter. It’s a crumpled twenty dollar bill, and she stops striding forward, clearly fuming. “How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you with a flower?”

Bonnibel blinks. Well this isn’t a usual customer request. She can’t help the way she smiles cheerily at the girl, eager to deliver her order. “Simple. Follow me.” She moves from behind the counter confidently, a hand placed on her hip painted delicately with pink nail polish matching her hair as she searches for the flowers. 

“What’s your name?” She asks conversationally, her fingertips skimming a couple hydrangeas, and the girl huffs once.

“Marceline. What’s yours?” Marceline inquires, her voice more melodic now, and not as gruff.

“Bonnibel Bubblegum.” She replies, hearing Marceline snort.

“Like your hair?”

“Like my hair.” Bonnibel echoes, gathering flowers in her arms and hauling them back to the counter, Marceline in tow. 

“Alright. I got just a few: meadowsweet for uselessness, yellow carnations, which are meant to mean ‘you have disappointed me’, and orange lilies, which symbolize hatred. Is that all you need?” Bonnibel requests airily, and Marceline nods, sliding over the dollar bill that still lays on the counter. 

“Thanks so much.” Marceline says, her words sounding malicious as soon as her hands lay on top of the flowers, but somehow gentle with grudging thanks.

“Of course. It’s my job.” Bonnibel says, earning her first smile. Her lips part to reveal an array of shark-like teeth, each pointed. She half expects to see her mouth dripping with blood like a stereotypical vampire, but there isn’t any.

“I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you more often.” Marceline stops, turning her head to speak at her way to the door.

“I’m looking forward to it.” 

…

“What flowers do you need today, Marcy?” Bonnibel asks, leaning over the counter with a grin as her favorite customer enters. She’s used to seeing her around now, her days sporadic but always at the same time, around one thirty in the afternoon.

This time, Marceline’s normally gravelly expression is replaced by a slightly flustered one. “Uhh… Any flowers about love?” She asks, and Bonnibel raises her eyebrows.

“Is there any catch? Are you going to squash the flowers in front of them, or something?” She asks suspiciously, and Marceline shakes her head, her appearance now horrified. 

“No, just. Like. Or Love. Whatever.” She mumbles, her cheeks flushing pink, the exact shade of Bonnibel’s hair. 

Bonnibel stares her down for any signs of reluctance before sighing. She’s gone through this drill too many times, her customers coming in and asking for the same flowers. Half the time she gives them flowers that have nothing to do with love, but she owes it to her loyal customer. 

“Alright.” She huffs, scooping an already wrapped bundle in her arms. “Here are some aster flowers, which is trust, and azalea, passion, and baby’s breath. Purity of the heart.” Bonnibel’s voice sounds drab, even to her own ears, and Marceline flinches, albeit small.

“Oh… Uh, thanks.” She mutters, quickly handing her the money before scampering off, looking discouraged.

Bonnibel flops down to her chair, crossing her arms and pursing her lips. Was it something she said?

…

The next day as she groggily opens up shop, she nearly stumbles over a neat bouquet of flowers. As she picks it up delicately, she realizes it’s one she packaged earlier, but the flowers are still fresh and in neat condition. She looks for any sign of why it’s been returned, only to catch a letter that flutters out of it later.

Dear Bonny, it reads. Sorry for buying flowers, I guess. I’m dropping these by, they’re for you. I’ll leave you my number if you’re not too against it, but if you don’t want to go out on a date sometime, just ignore it. – Marceline.

Bonnibel’s heart catches in her throat, and she nearly drops everything. Marceline was so worried because of her? No wonder she ran out so quickly, she treated her awfully!

She quickly shifts to take out her phone, leaning against the door as she puts it up to her ear.

Marceline picks it up on the second ring, her tone hopeful through the grainy connection. “Hello?” She asks.

“Hey, Marcy! It’s Bonnibel—“

“You called?” Marceline interrupts, sounding shocked but pleased.

“Of course I called, ya ding dong! I’ve been wanting to ask you out for weeks!” Bonnibel nearly shrieks, rolling her eyes.

“You never even showed me any signs of it, how was I supposed to know?” Marceline accuses, but she doesn’t sound angry.

“It’s called being subtle. Anyways, I’m really sorry about yesterday.”

Marceline pauses, and it’s clear she’s surprised at her words. “It’s whatever.” She says finally. “You get those requests all the time, you should’ve asked that way.”

“No, I shouldn’t have.” Bonnibel insists, meaning in her tone. “If I’d have known…” 

“But you didn’t. Doesn’t matter. Put a lid on the pity party.” Marceline’s clear to the point: she doesn’t want her worrying anymore.

“Right.” Bonnibel agrees warily, before brightening. “But anyways… I get off my shift early today. Want to watch a movie afterwards?”

Bonnibel can practically see the way Marceline grins, jumps on the heels of her feet. “Yeah, I’d love that.” 

Bonnie sighs. “That was low, even for you.”

“I know.”


End file.
